Fear rises in belly as son gets his license

By ANDREW SKERRITT
Published July 15, 2007

After my 17-year-old son returned home from visiting a friend one night recently, he miraculously found her house keys in his jeans pocket.

"Can I take them back over to her house?" he asked, reaching for my car keys.

For a moment I felt cornered by teenage genius. It would have been easier for me to say no. It was after 9 p.m. She wasn't locked out of her house. He could take them another day.

But as he drove away into the warm night, I felt a knot in my stomach.

I've entered a nervous, new season as a parent. My son is a licensed driver.

As our kids grow up, we try to teach them right and trust they'll carry those lessons when they walk out the door. There are so many things we can't control. We learn to manage the anxiety and not be controlled by the fear of the nightmare knock on the door, the telephone call late at night.

But we know that's always a possibility. With their inexperience and immaturity, so much could go wrong - driving at night, driving with other teens, driving drunk, speeding. Teen drivers have the highest crash risk of any age group. Per mile traveled, they have the highest involvement rates in fatal car crashes and those resulting in property damage, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.

I'm in the news business. I've read the stats, seen my share of teen wrecks, spoken to grieving parents. My natural instinct is to let my son wait. But I can't do that. He'll be a senior this year. College and adulthood beckon -- much too quickly, if you ask me.

My son actually wanted to start driving more than two years ago. He signed up for driver's education his freshman year. I had no objections with him being taught by a professional. But no one told me that my son's driver's ed class came with homework for dad. I was obliged to take him on the road for practice.

There's no terror like a parent's first time in the passenger seat with his teenager behind the wheel.

Thankfully, my son was a better driver than I expected. He kept up with the flow of traffic and deftly changed lanes the first time he drove on Dale Mabry Highway. With him behind the wheel, we could talk man-to-man, about school, about his driving, about being on the lookout for reckless drivers.

But just when I learned to relax in the passenger seat, it happened. He pulled into our driveway, mistakenly hit the accelerator instead of the brakes and slammed into a pillar in front of our house. The car was battered, but drivable; the pillar was split in two. Neither of us was hurt; thankfully he hadn't run into another car.

That was about 18 months ago. Since then, he has driven occasionally -- except for when he lost his wallet and with it his driver's permit. I didn't mind that.

But this summer he got his first job. He needed a government ID. It was time for him to get his license. So he's driving. He can now drive himself to work. He won't need me to drive him to meet his dates. I've traded the inconvenience of being his personal chauffeur for nervous uncertainty.

It's the bargain every mother or father must make, ready or not.

Andrew Skerritt can be reached at 813 909-4602 or toll-free at 1-800-333-7505, ext. 4602. His e-mail address is askerritt@sptimes.com.

[Last modified July 15, 2007, 08:41:26]